


APOSTASIES

by TheJoysOfAMultishipper (Amemah)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hydra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amemah/pseuds/TheJoysOfAMultishipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt requested Darcy Lewis centric angst + 'This is Gospel' by Panic! At the Disco. Also a birthday present for my friend!</p><p>-<br/>[If you love me let me go]</p><p>Thunder and lightning struck down around them, cocooning them in a haze of grey and white. The skies opened up to a pouring, heavy rain that made the blood of the fight run down the streets in tiny rivers of red.</p><p>OR </p><p>Darcy belonged to Hydra and people found out. Predictably, everything went wrong.<br/>-</p>
            </blockquote>





	APOSTASIES

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devidlg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devidlg/gifts).



> For my very, very good friend Devi! Hope you had a nice day, Drops! Hugs!!
> 
> \--
> 
> This is really angsty, so please heed the warnings. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much asI enjoyed writing it, and please let me know if you liked it! :)
> 
> \-- I'll edit mistakes later :)
> 
> \--
> 
> Hugs <3
> 
> \--
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr! Come say hi!](http://thejoysofamultishipper.tumblr.com/)

[This is gospel for the fallen ones  
Locked away in permanent slumber]

 _This is not right_.

**Asset, the mission is still in process.**

_This is not right._

**Asset, you have work to do.**

_This is not right._

**Asset, do you want the cold? You don’t like the cold, we both know that, but I have to punish you if you don’t complete the mission. Asset, failure is not an option. We’ll give her the cold instead.**

_This is not right. This is not right. This is not right this is not right this is not right_

“This is not right.”

**You know what’s right, do you?**

_Sarcasm; Master is angry. Question: do Asset know what is right? Answer: no. Asset is Asset and Master is Master. Objective: Neutralize Target.  
_ “No.”

**No, _what_?**

“No, I do not know what is right, Master.”

**Exactly. Asset, pull the trigger.**

_Pull arm back, aim, press. Press. Press. Objective: Neutralize; Avoid the Cold. Press._

**Asset. Press.**

_No._

**Asset.**

_Master is angry. Objective: Avoid the Cold._

“No.”

  _wha –_

**Asset!**

_Run._

_—_

[‘Cause these words are knives that often leave scars  
And truth be told, I never was yours]

She screamed. She screamed until she could taste blood on her teeth and her throat was chafed raw. The  _pain_. It was like a living, tangible thing, burning from just behind her right eye and running through her veins, buckling under her skin and taking root in her bones, promising to never, ever leave. She’d known pain before, knew how to breathe through and how to ignore it, but she had never felt anything like  _this_  before. It was a cold so cold it was a fire.

Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say your name don’t say their name don’t  _say it_

Shut up

Don’t say it don’t say it you can’t say it  _promise yourself don’t say it you’ll explode they have trackers your body is theirs you ran away you have the serum why did you run  they’ll want you back you’ll **explode they’ll make you explode**_

The voices were screaming at her, and she could feel something bubbling in her chest and making her skin break out in cold sweats.  _Fear_. She’d felt it before, but that was a long time ago, before she’d learned fear was useless and she’d trained herself out of it.

The only people she was allowed to fear were the masters, so logic dictated they’d be here, with her and watching as she fought through  _this_ , whatever  _this_  was. There was nothing she could make herself do; nothing but feel her body shake in agony, as her aching throat got worse, as –

“I’m the one speaking.”

It took an embarrassingly long time before she realized it. Her lips were shaking too, just like the rest of her, but she could control them. She could move them, she could run her tongue over her teeth and she could ground herself in that feeling of wet, slippery, smooth bone against her tongue.

She forced herself to breathe, forced herself to  _think_.

“Too much.” Her voice didn’t sound like her; it was too breathy, too weak, and too high. It was right though – thinking was too much.

“Talk. Use your voice, listen to your voice, and breathe.” She could ground herself in that too.

“I’m talking, I’m talking, what do I… Fuck, what the fuck did I d– “

She sobbed. Just one sob, but it was an ugly, violent, heaving sob that shook her frame and made the pain flare again. It was still white-hot, still burning and stinging, but there was more to it now.

“Specific, localized pains.”  
Her voice was gasping now, which made sense. Pain always made it a struggle to breathe.

“Upper, right arm: possible fracture; lower, left thigh: gunshot wound or stab wound; all ten fingers: pain.”

She couldn’t tell which pain, couldn’t classify it as something she’d ever felt before.

“Open your eyes, asset.”

 _Not an asset_ , another voice screamed at her, but she couldn’t concentrate on it. 

“Just open your fucking eyes!”

She did as her voice told her to and opened her eyes. It was nighttime; that much was clear, but not completely dark.  _Full moon_ , she thought, before the memories of running and a fight assaulted her, followed by more running and more fighting. She tried to focus on something in the memories; a scent, a sound,  _anything_ , but all she could feel was that pain still burning through her. It felt like her eye was falling out, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Concentrate!”

She tried, she really did, but all that existed was the pain and –

“Then focus on the pain!”

She could do that.  _I can do that_. Bracing herself, she let the white-hot take over her, gasping for breath as she focused on it.  _Come on, just like in training_. She let herself drown in it, made herself breathe through it.  

“Your fingers, asset. Check your fingers.” Her voice wasn’t screaming at her anymore, which helped with the apparent ringing in her ears – she hadn’t even noticed it until it was gone. She realized she was on all fours, so all she had to see her fingers was open her eyes again. Easier said than done, but eventually her right eye obeyed and finally, she could see again.  

Her hair was in the way of optimum sight, wet and dirty and coiling at the ends. She remembered braiding it at some point, moving through the motions of twisting and pulling, pinching it between her fingers as she got a hair band and then throwing it over her shoulder when she was done tying it. She could even remember the  _thump_  of the braid hitting her back on the right shoulder blade before bouncing and settling in the middle of her back.

Her fingers had felt fine as she braided, but now they were throbbing with a nauseating pain. Up until now, she’d thought those pains were the worst, but she was clearly wrong on that. She made herself take in her surroundings, from the broken ceiling to the cement under her hands and knees. That must have been the source of the pain; she could see shallow scratches in the cement that were the size of her fingers, and the stone was crumbling under her fingers. Vaguely, she could remember tightening her hands into fists, and she reasoned that her fingers holding onto the floor must’ve scratched the skin.

“Not a floor.”

Her voice was breathy again, but not in the same way. It was still weak, still not-quite-her, but it almost sounded as if she’d made a joke.

“More like an observation.”

“I’m talking to myself.”

She closed her eyes and breathed again, trying to center herself.

“Asset needs shelter, food and first aid.”

She stood up, pushing the pain to the back of her mind. Shelter first – follow the rivers.

* * *

[The fear, the fear of falling apart  
Oh, this is the beat of my heart,]

 _Darcy_.

She looked up from the sink and into the mirror above it. It was dirty, but so was she. It was cracked, but she supposed she was too.  _Darcy_. It was a voice, but it didn’t come from outside the bathroom door.  _Darcy_.

Her hands stilled under the running water (warm, always warm) as the feeling that was becoming too familiar came back yet again.  _Darcy, come back here! You think you can just steal those cookies, do you? Silly little baby, come on. Put them back; they’re for grandma’s birthday_.

A warm voice this time, filled with affection and laughter and  _love_. She’d heard that in voices before, when she was infiltrating families or organizations.Love. Such a foreign concept to her, so alien and unthinkable that a hoarse laughter made its way up and out of her lips. Still… She couldn’t deny it felt right.

 _You can’t blame her, honey, they’re delicious_! Another voice now, this one deeper and rougher, but just as warm. If the first voice was hot chocolate, this one was a stew that’d keep you warm and full for twelve hours.  _And how would you know? Did you taste them too?_  They were interacting. They were teasing each other with a familiarity that she had only felt once before.

 _Dadda!_  And then a giggle. Her own giggle, she realized with a start. Her own parents too. The water stopped by itself, and she looked down at her hands again. They were still there, still capable, still bleeding a little. They were smaller in her memory, smaller and softer with chipped pink nail polish painted on small nails.

Her nails were dirty now, with specks of brown blood showing through.

Darcy.

“Darcy,” She said, quietly so it wouldn’t bounce off the tiles in the poorly lit and too exposed public bathroom. They could be outside right now. “Darcy.”

She had a name. A name that wasn’t ‘asset’, a name that wasn’t a cover she could barely remember, a name that was  _hers_ , that was given to her by people who loved her, people who cared for her.

_Darcy!_

A new voice this time, this one male as well. He was hissing her name, as if restraining himself from shouting.  _Darcy, don’t tease, come on!_  Her skin flushed as the memory came back, hitting her full force straight in the stomach.  _Come on, Dimka, you can handle this. You’re the Winter Soldier_.

She was mocking him, teasing as if they had known each other forever and a day.  _And you’d best remember that_. Darcy gripped edge of the sink, struggling to keep herself on her feet.  _And you’d best remember which one is tied up – it’s you, by the way. You’re the one tied up_. He was laughing now, as she remembered her fingers playing on his chest, trailing down his torso.  _Doesn’t mean I’m not in control, though._

Darcy managed to get to the toilet before throwing up.  

_Dimka, you don’t seriously believe you’re the boss, do you? I could kill you right now and we both know it. Now shut up and eat me out._

_Yes ma’am._

She remembered his grin as she retched, remembered the way he hummed against her skin and all the ways he told her she was his priority without ever saying the words. She remembered him and she almost cried again; almost cried for them both and the future they never had – not even when they had the present.

—

[Confessing their apostasies  
Led away by imperfect impostors]

Jasper Sitwell was an infuriatingly plain man. The reason his plainness was infuriating, was because he was as far from plain you could come. Jane disliked him and everything he stood for (“Stole my notebook, Darcy,  _honestly the nerve on that man_!”) but even she couldn’t deny that the deal SHIELD had offered was the best she was ever going to get. Not even that; it was the best  _period_.

“We lost many resources during the invasion – “ 

“Yes, we saw that on the news,” Darcy interjected, “You know, because we were in Norway. As in northern Europe and not here, in New York, as we were supposed to be.”

“You’re welcome,” Sitwell said pointedly, with an arched eyebrow that Darcy grudgingly had to admit was very impressive. Seriously, it was right up there with Stephen Colbert’s.

“Resources?” Jane asked before Darcy could answer, because she was actually pretty smart for an astrophysicist and knew something good rarely came form Darcy speaking her mind to authority figures.

“Yes, resources. The beginning of the attack centered around our labs, more specifically the labs geared towards space and the exploration of our universe.”

“Aliens, dude.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “You can just say aliens. We all know – this is a safe space.”

“Actually, space isn’t a safe at all,” Jane said with a faux seriousness that Darcy had only just begun to appreciate. “It’s very dangerous. Seriously,  _so_  dangerous.”

“With a capital ‘d’,” Darcy added.

“Yes, be that as it may – we lost resources. Luckily, we have Tony Stark on our team and he’s very interested in your work, Dr. Foster.”

“As he should be,” Jane said, straightening her back proudly. “My work is excellent.”

“It’s the best he’ll ever see, but that doesn’t explain  _how_  he got to see it. Jane, did you send it to Mr. Stark?” Darcy asked, keeping her eyes on Sitwell. His face went blank at her question; the tight lines around his mouth softening to wrinkles. It was almost cartoonish to watch.

“No.” Jane answered Darcy with narrowed eyes, looking at Sitwell with suspicion written on every feature. “No, I didn’t.”

Sitwell looked back, not giving away anything. Of course, by doing that he was also giving them everything. “Does it matter?” He finally asked.

“Not for now,” Jane answered, repressed anger evident in her voice. “It might matter later.”

“Dr. Foster, du you accept the offer or not?”

“Fine. Yes, I accept your offer.”

—

[Don’t try to sleep through the end of the world]

Love.

It was funny, how four years ago she didn’t think herself capable of any emotion other than blinding rage, but a few months with a physicist and said physicist’s godfather, and suddenly Darcy found herself doling out hugs and making sure people were fed.

She was used to every person for themselves, and that if you can’t take care of yourself you might as well be dead for all the good you are to anyone. Sometimes, she found herself thinking that her life was somehow wrong now, because it was so  _off_  from anything she’d ever known that there was no way this is how it’s  _supposed_  to be.

The idea of taking care of someone else, of making sure they were fed and reasonably clothed wasn’t something she’d ever think she’d look forward to doing, but Jane was a friend now – an actual, honest-to-Thor  _friend_ , and Erik was just the same, only slightly more… Naked.

She tried reassuring herself that  _this_  is why she escaped that day, this is what she was longing for those nights she stitched herself up after her mission and she didn’t know what she really wanted and the only comfort she had was out on his own mission. Most of the time, it didn’t work. But whenever she opened her eyes again, whenever she made herself focus on the noises surrounding her, Jane and Erik were right there, looking at her with friendship and exasperation and annoyance and  _love_.

At some point Darcy realized that, for now, she doesn’t need her own reassurance. She has Jane and Erik and their reassurance even if they don’t know it, and for now that is enough. They can be strong for her while she builds herself up and that would have to be okay. She didn’t think they’d mind if they knew just how much she depended on them.

—

[Their gnashing teeth and criminal tongues conspire against the odds]

They don’t tell you how difficult it is to talk about trauma, and they certainly don’t tell you it’s even more difficult to talk about it when you can barely acknowledge it  _is_ trauma. Jane knew something had happened to her, knew it in the way girls knows the aftermath of trauma better than anyone. She was a woman in STEM, and she’d had her fair share of experiences she didn’t talk about.

She never pried, she barely asked at all. She was just  _there_ , with a sympathetic but never pitying smile or an understanding touch to help Darcy come back from wherever her mind went.

Erik was the same, only unsure of how to deal with it. He did care though; whenever he had the capacity to think of anything other than numbers, he always made sure the interns stocked licorice tea and he told the best stories to help center her mind. Mostly they were myths he’d learned in childhood, of Balder and Huldra and Odin with his tall hat.

She would die and kill for them both, she would set fire to the entire world if either of them wanted it, and now they were staring at her as if they think she’d kill  _them_.

“There is no evidence of any torture, Lewis. There’s no evidence of any brainwashing either, all that exists are mission reports and a file with your name and your picture.”

She’d never met this version of Steve before. She’d met Captain America, the character and icon Steve seemed vaguely uncomfortable with; she’d met Commander Rogers, the competent soldier who did what he could and hoped to fuck for the best; she’d even met Steve, who considered her a friend to eat popcorn and be quiet with.

The man in front of her wasn’t any of those versions. This was Rogers, and he was pissed off and hurting and Darcy wanted to kill him for not trusting her when she’d trusted  _him_  and offered her friendship.

“You want me to  _prove_  I was abused, Steve?”

“I want you to prove you’re not here to kill us all in our sleep,  _Darcy_.” 

“I haven’t done it yet,” Darcy sniped, forcing her body not to shake, no matter how the rage and the pain – that throbbing pain from behind her eye that never went completely away – began to build. She couldn’t lose herself, especially not now. 

She wanted to remind them all that she was their friend, but they’d see it as manipulation and she’d rather not take her chances. The world tended to forget that in order for Captain America to be of any use, he has to kill. He’s a soldier and he kills. Darcy knew better than to forget that he could kill her as well.

“And that’s supposed to reassure me?”

And there it was. 

Nothing Darcy could say would matter to him now, or anyone else for that matter, because their minds were already made up. In their eyes, Darcy was a traitor – a spy that no one saw coming because she wore beanies and liked licorice tea. 

Of course, if they’d just take a second to  _think_ , they’d realize she wore beanies because the cold never leaves you, she drank licorice tea because salt was the taste bud that was least affected by the electric shocks and the reason she was ‘the spy no one say coming’, was because  _she wasn’t a spy_. She was a friend and they’d never had friends before, so naturally something  _had_  to be wrong.

But that didn’t matter now. She only had one card to play, and they’d never realize just how much she hated playing it. He was  _hers_ , the secret she’d kept forever and a day and now he was her only chance of survival, like so many times before.

“I can help you find Bucky.”

They’d never believe her if she said she wasn’t Hydra, but they’d believe him. And if not, he wouldn’t let them kill her. Either way, they’d have that future together.

—

[And bury me alive]

Really, they should have known to better than to let her grow bored, Darcy thought as she slammed the breaks on the (stolen) car down and wrenched the door open. People were running west and away from her, some obviously hurt but most of them luckily unharmed. She got out of the car, cursing the suit they’d put her in and the chains around her ankles. She’d managed to dislodge them from each other, but there wasn’t enough time to remove them completely, so the chain  _clinked_  against the asphalt as she ran.

The weight of it slowed her down by a few milliseconds per ten meter, but you were never really to late to war. If they’d just stored her in Avengers Tower like all the other high profile Hydra members, she’d be able to help by now, but they hadn’t and she wasn’t.

The only reason she’d even bothered to break her way out of the jail was Jane, who, according to BBC, had decided to join in the fight. As Darcy continued to run against the horde of people and towards the sound of Hulk losing his shit, she tried not to think about her friend, her too brave and too clever and too stupid friend who’d definitely get herself accidentally killed in the name of science and-or saving the world. Honestly, how Steve hadn’t kept Jane insi –

“ _Darcy_!”

“What are you doing outside?” Darcy screamed back, crossing the street and running full speed to Jane and Erik. They both grinned at her, but it faltered quickly as they remembered who they thought she was. Darcy didn’t have time to be hurt by it, too busy cataloging the active agents surrounding her. “Get back inside, now!”

“No, they’re coming from up top!” Jane screamed back as Darcy got to work on dismantling the operatives surrounding her. Jane seemed momentarily speechless as she watched her intern of three years fight like she’d never done anything else, but got back to explaining once Darcy found the opening to wave an impatient hand. Then again, the hand also knocked someone’s very white teeth out, so maybe it wasn’t  _just_  for Jane.

“Hydra managed to make contact with someone –“

“Aliens!” Erik shouted, clarifying just in case Darcy didn’t get it. She got it, but it would’ve been nice if she hadn’t. Erik was great.

“Yes, those – anyway, it’s not a portal and it’s not a black hole of some sort either – “

“So basically we’re shit out of luck!” Erik shouted again, as helpful as ever. Darcy huffed a laugh, but paid for the moment of unawareness via a painful kick to her left ribs. The operative was out before she managed to lift her arms in defense, a bullet placed right between her eyes. Darcy hadn’t put it there, as she hadn’t been able to pick up a gun without throwing up for over five years now.

 _Stop. Think. He’s here_.

She’d told Steve that his best bet was to let ‘Bucky’ come back on his own, but he’d thrown a hissy fit on a scale which Darcy had never seen before, so to know James was right behind her as always was gratifying on  _so_  many levels.

“Okay, so it’s not a portal and not a hole,” Darcy clarified once the scene was cleared and she’d managed to get to Jane’s side. Jane watched her move towards them with a growing expression of horror on her face, Erik looking like a mirror image on Jane’s right.  
“Is it a door?”

“A door?” Jane repeated dumbly, her hand reaching up to Darcy’s face.

“What are you –?” Darcy asked, but then Jane’s fingers touched the bruising on her cheek and around her eye.  _Oh. She’s still worried about me._ Which reminded her; once this was all over with, Darcy was going to yell at a lot of people regarding their safety. They were too exposed  _by far_. “It’s fine, Jane, don’t worry.”

“Darcy, I –“

“A door.” Darcy repeated forcefully. “Or something like that. Remember the aliens, boss-lady?”

—

[‘Cause I won’t give up without a fight]

Darcy turned a right and came face to face with Captain America. He looked shocked for a second before his fist connected with her hand. He looked at her right hand encircling his own, holding it in place as if were a child’s.

“Why did I find Jane and Erik without protection with a team of operatives moving in on them with no backup in sight?” Darcy asked, still holding his fist. He shook his arm, trying to wrench it from her, but it stayed put. Hydra had come a long way with their serums; last Darcy checked they’d managed to replicate both the strength and speed. All that was missing was the healing, but they’d probably fixed that bug by now.

“Why are you out of your cell?”

“Because there’s only so many times I can punch Grant Ward before I’m thrown into solitary.” Darcy gave him a terse smile, releasing his fist abruptly. Watching him stumble for balance was kind of funny. “I got bored.”

“Funny.” The Captain answered, “You do realize this does nothing to assure me of your innocence?”

Darcy rolled her eyes, and then pointed towards a group of civilians behind Steve, all being held at gunpoint by a group of operatives. “You might want to save their lives while I make sure Jane and Erik doesn’t die.”

Steve looked over his shoulder, cursed and then looked back at Darcy again. She made a shooing motion with her hands, making him want to kill her in the process, but someone screamed and he ran away.

“Maybe you shouldn’t annoy the man with a super serum when he thinks you’re Hydra?” Jane suggested, not bothering to look up from the thingamajig sat on the pavement that she was punching numbers or codes or pizza-orders into.

“I agree with Jane,” Erik said while working on his own thingamabob. “Think he might want to kill you.”

“But you don’t want me dead anymore?” Darcy asked, “You believe me?”

“Of course we do,” Jane answered, still not looking up. The thingamajig was glowing bright green now, which was always a good sign. “The reason we have no security might be because we’re pissed off at everyone and we fired them as an act of protest.”

“Literally the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard,” Darcy said, “But also the sweetest thing anyone’s ever told me.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Erik said, “You punched Grant Ward; you deserve a freaking meda –“

There was an explosion to their right, 25 meters down. It wasn’t big, but it created enough of a diversion for Darcy to feel too exposed.  _Stop. Think. He’s here, he has your back. Stay with Jane and Erik, keep them safe_.

“Darcy?” Jane asked, worry tinting her voice.

“Keep working,” she answered, “Make it quick, we’re too exposed and enemy is coming in heavy.”

They really were; the explosion had created enough chaos for armored vehicles to force themselves through the crowd. What made it so worrying was that they were all zeroing in on Jane and Erik, and on top that, the operatives were making their way through SHIELD-but-not agents too quickly for Darcy’s liking.

Darcy scanned her surroundings, looking for a way out of the street and somewhere less exposed and trapped. Above her, Iron Man and War Machine were doing their things while Falcon switched between damage control and active offense, but none of them would be able to help her now; Falcon’s wingspan was too long and Iron Man hated her guts.  
The aliens were making things very difficult too, with Iron Man having to improvise weapons of mass destruction on the spot and explain it all to War Machine and Falcon as he went. Luckily, they both had degrees that came in handy, but Darcy could really use some backup.

There was Captain America, but he also hated her guts, and he was too far away to help them anyway. Hawkeye was perched on the inside of a broken window and could make his way down if he wanted to, but she had no way of contacting him. Black Widow might have helped her, but she was busy on her own front. Hulk was helping her by doing what he does best, which only left  _him_ , but Darcy didn’t want to force him out of hiding before he came out on his own. It wasn’t her decision to make.  

“Darcy?” Jane repeated, “It’s almost done, I just need to place this somewhere under the door.”

“Do you know where it is?” Darcy asked, relieved to see Jane nodding. Darcy hadn’t seen anything but the things coming out of it, but there was nothing she could do to help with that so she’d left it to Iron Man and his buddies.

“We can’t see it,” Erik explained, “But we can track it. Just get us to that statue and we’ll take care of it.”

“Okay,” Darcy nodded towards the thingamabob and thingamajig, moving closer to Jane and Erik. The operatives were too fucking close and SHIELD couldn’t hold them. “Which of these do you ne –“ 

**Asset.**

“No.”

**Asset, you have orders.**

“No, I don’t. Get out of my head.”

**Asset, take down Dr. Foster and Dr. Selvig.**

_No!_

**You can speak, Asset.**

“No!”

_no no no no no no no no no no no no no fight it come on you have to fight it Jane needs you Erik needs you James needs you you can’t let this happen you can’t let them do this to you you can’t_

**Asset, take this gun.**

_Standard Glock 16_

**Asset, you have orders. What is mission objective?**

_No. No, this isn’t right._ _This is not right_.

**Asset, the mission is still in process.**

_This is not right._

**Asset, you have work to do.**

_This is not right._

**Asset, do you want the cold? You don’t like the cold, we both know that, but I have to punish you if you don’t complete the mission. Asset, failure is not an option. We’ll give her the cold instead.**

_This is not right. This is not right. This is not right this is not right this is not right_

“This is not right.”

**You know what’s right, do you?**

_Sarcasm; Master is angry. Question: doeso Asset know what is right? Answer: no. Asset is Asset and Master is Master. Objective: Neutralize Target._

“No.”

**No, _what_?**

“No, I do not know what is right, Master.”

**Exactly. Asset, pull the trigger.**

_Pull arm back, aim, press. Press. Press. Objective: Neutralize; Avoid the Cold. Press._

**Asset. Press.**

_No._

**Asset.**

_Master is angry. Objective: Avoid the Cold._

“No.”

_wha –_

**Asset!**

_Run._

“Jane,  _run!_ ” Darcy screamed, shifting the Glock in her hands as Jane and Erik listened to her and bolted with their equipment. She looked up to see James watching her, his rifle following her bosses and keeping them safe. He watched her until she pressed her lips together, watched as she centered herself and then turned.

He looked away when she began the fight; knowing she could take care of herself and instead making sure her friends were safe. Darcy kicked and punched in a controlled sort of chaos her opponents couldn’t find the rhythm to, taking them out one by one.

She killed the man she now realized was her master – it was Sitwell all along, and Jane had never been so right in her life – but didn’t let herself feel anything more than a sting of satisfaction. There were always more masters and more ways for them to control her or anyone else and they needed to be  _gone_. She was so wrapped up in herself she didn’t see the arm until it was too late to dodge the attack, but the sudden sharp pain in her stomach brought her back to the present quickly. She went to see if it was serious, but someone was yelling her name and pain could always wait.

“Darcy, here!” Steve shouted, throwing her his shield. She caught it on instinct, slamming it into the neck of someone coming at her. As he slumped towards the ground she took one of his knives and stabbed it into the chest of the man coming up behind him. “Steve,” she said, knowing he could hear her fine without shouting. She threw the shield back but didn’t check to see if he’d caught it, already moving on to the next. She didn’t hear a clatter of steel against asphalt so she assumed he’d caught it.

“Here,” Natasha said, coming up beside her and handing her a small handgun, something that could easily fit under a tight dress if you knew how to drape it.

“No thanks,” Darcy said, but pulled the knife out of the operative’s chest and stabbed underneath the armpit of the guy aiming a semi-automatic at Nat’s head to take the sting out of her words. Nat smirked a ‘thank you’ – because she was Nat and that’s what she did – and took her position beside Darcy.

It took them five minutes and fifty-seven seconds, but eventually the operatives in their part of the street were either down or dead. Tony and Rhodey had helped out where they could once they saw Steve no longer wanted her dead, but it was mostly down to Darcy and Nat and they all knew it.

There was a pause while Darcy drew a deep breath and stilled her shaking hands, where everyone stared at her with faces full of apologies. Apparently they’d noticed the brief mind-controlling going on.

“Later,” Darcy said, nodding her head east and up the street where Falcon was doing his thing to make sure Jane and Erik were safe. “Fix that first.”

She didn’t hang around to check if they agreed, simply began to run and hoped they followed. They did, and Darcy tried not to think of how relieved that made her. Too many emotions were running through her and she was too fragile to deal with it. Mind control really fucks you up, apparently.

She could feel James’ eyes on her neck as she ran, could see him taking out enemy targets coming for them, but she didn’t say anything as Nat asked who was helping them. James would come out when he was ready.

Sam met them by a statue of someone long dead but very handsome, looking winded but otherwise okay. It was more than Darcy could say for herself anyway, and he seemed happy to see them as well. More specifically, he seemed happy to see  _her_.

“You finally pulled you heads out of your asses then?” He asked, nodding towards Darcy. Darcy looked to her right and over to Steve to find him looking right back at her, again with an incredible amount of guilt.

“Just needed an insane amount of lube,” Darcy grinned, before continuing to Jane and Erik. Sam had done a great job taking out Hydra agents, but they were worse than rats and there were always more coming.  “How much more left before the aliens are taken care of?”

“Just a little bit,” Jane answered, looking up to smile reassuringly. It died on her lips as her eyes traveled down Darcy’s body, concern and fear mixing into one on her face. “Are you okay?”

Darcy looked down at herself, at the blood and dirt covering her prisoner’s suit and the sad ankle cuffs still holding on for dear life. She didn’t make an impressive sight, but she’d felt worse. To be honest, the pain in her stomach was steadily building and the throbbing behind her eye was acting up, but she could handle it. “Completely fine,” she smiled back.  

Jane took her at her word and went back to punching in numbers on the thingamajig. Erik narrowed his eyes in concern at her, but eventually the aliens won out. He helped Jane hold the thingamajig steady as it shook and the green glow slowly went away.

Then, it was back in full force, only brighter and moving upwards as opposed to outwards. It was a darker green too; more beer bottle than lime. The light stretched like a vine towards the sky, twisting in on itself and twirling around until it almost looked like a huge rope hanging from sky.

Darcy and the Avengers backed up and circled the statue as it gave them a better view of the light, and a better fighting position. Hydra was moving in on them, guns raised in a defensive position. It was stupid, but Darcy couldn’t help but feel they looked overdressed. They just didn’t fit in here on the streets, as they looked like they belonged in a battlefield.  

Their guns were aimed at the fighters, but Darcy could see their eyes shifting towards Jane and Erik.  _Mine,_  she wanted to scream,  _you can’t have them!  
_ Her stomach still hurt and her clothes felt uncomfortably sticky, but there was nothing to do about it now.

Hydra made their move, coming at them full force.

—

[If you love me let me go]

“ _Bucky?_ ” Steve shouted, freezing in place as his oldest friend walked up and stood beside him as if nothing had ever happened.

“Later,” James answered, pulling out a SIG-Sauer that Steve had definitely seen in the hands of Pierce at some point. He put down three operatives in quick succession before pausing to turn to Steve. He still hadn’t moved. “You’re done wanting my girlfriend dead, right?”

“Yeah, nothing more than an overwhelming sense of guilt left.”

—

[This is the beat of my heart]

Darcy grunted as her heel connected to a chin, cursing the thin shoes she’d been given.  She should have gotten some different clothes before going into this, but Jane and Erik were in danger and there just wasn’t time.  

 _Worth it_ , she thought as she turned back to see Jane grinning at the sky. “Did it work?” Darcy shouted, hoping Jane could hear her over the gunfire and sounds of what could only be described as a battle.

“Yes!” Jane yelled back, now grinning at her. Darcy felt her lips twitch in response, but just then a fist armed with brass knuckles came at her from the side and Darcy threw herself back into the fight.

—

[If you love me let me go]

Jane looked from Darcy – now fighting like Jane had never seen the likes of – and up to the sky again. Technically there wasn’t anything to see as the ‘door’ was invisible, but Jane still needed to  _watch_. The sky had never really let her see what was going on, but it was still something she needed in her life.

“Jane!” Erik’s sudden scream pierced her ears and she looked down at him in confusion. He was still sitting by the reader, but her looked at her like he’d seen a ghost.

“ _Jane, get down!_ ” Someone screamed, and when she turned around she saw it was the Winter Soldier. She did as he said, dropping straight to the ground because she wasn’t an idiot and she knew that when Barnes tells you to do something, you do it.

Only, she wasn’t dropping to the ground like she’d planned. Her body was frozen, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t move. She tried not to panic, tried to just breathe, but something was so, so wrong and fuck, was it getting cold?

“ _Jane!_ ”

Darcy. That was Darcy screaming at her, but Jane couldn’t focus because the cold was  _everywhere_ , enveloping her and moving inside her, moving through her. It was like metal and fire and fucking  _ice_ , just pure ice taking root in her bones.

“ _Jane, no – no, not her, please n –!”_

Darcy was right in front of her, moving though the air in slow motion, and she looked so fluid, so graceful and how hadn’t Jane noticed that Darcy walked like she was floating on air before?

But then her body jerked mid-air, and she could hear Darcy gasping for breath, and then Barnes was screaming for Darcy to, “Get up! Get up, you’re exposed, get up!”

Darcy managed to move into a sitting position, almost rolling over while Barnes took out the people aiming for Darcy. She turned to look at Jane and there was horror in her eyes and then she was running, running towards Jane and screaming, “Not you, fuck no, not you!”

Jane wanted to reassure her but the cold, that fucking cold and then Darcy was crouching, bending over as she screamed, holding onto her right eye and when she looked up again, there was blood running from it, just a single teardrop of blood running down her bruised cheek and Jane wanted to murder someone, just straight up murder someone.

She just couldn’t get her body to move and Erik was screaming their names and Barnes, he was screaming for Darcy and everyone else was fighting and shouting for answers and then –

Jane could move.

Iron Man was floating above her as her knees buckled, flying away before she could even think to ask what he’d done or thank him for anything. Darcy gasped, grasping for Jane and Jane let her hand run down her face, felt the wet blood smear under her fingers and she ignored the pain in her knees from hitting the asphalt and the cold that was still there and she looked at Darcy.

She looked at Darcy because Darcy was dying and Jane was absolutely sure of it.

—

[This is the beat of my heart]

 _It’s just a gunshot wound_ , he tried to convince himself as Darcy grasped Jane’s thigh and held on for dear life.  _It’s just one bullet in her stomach and she can handle it._  It didn’t work, he couldn’t convince himself, but he couldn’t run to her either. They were all too exposed and Darcy couldn’t get shot,  _not again_.

He turned towards the fight; taking out another five operates as if on instinct – as if he was  _theirs_  again – but Steve was yelling at him over gunfire.

“Go to her! Fucking - just fucking go to her!”

They were the best orders he’d ever been given, and he didn’t hesitate to obey. Perfect timing too, as Jane was screaming for him and Nat moved in to take his position.

“She’s dying,” Jane said with a shaking voice, holding Darcy as she lay over her friend’s thighs. James wanted to say something, assure her she was wrong because Darcy couldn’t just die,  _we have a future now, and she can’t die_. 

Erik wasn’t saying anything, just carding his fingers through Darcy thick, dirty hair, looking pale and awful. He’d seen too many things and he couldn’t make it stop. James knew the feeling.

Carefully, James let his metal arm encircle Darcy’s back and maneuvered her so she was resting on her crossed thighs and held up by his arms. He pressed his hand into her lower stomach, and tried not to think of her insides touching him.

“It’s just a gunshot,” He said to her, his voice raspy and full of unshed tears, “You’ve survived worse.”

“I think I was stabbed already,” She said with a small smile, as if trying to reassure him that things would be okay. How could they be okay? “I’d already lost a lot of blood, James.”

“You have a serum,” He protested, pressing his flesh hand harder against the wound in her stomach. She didn’t even register it, and that’s when he knew. “You’ll be fine,” He continued weakly. He didn’t sound like himself.

“Of course I will,” Darcy smiled again, always smiling at him; these private smiles that didn’t look like smiles to anyone else. This though, anyone could see it was a smile. “You’ll be fine too.”

“Yeah,” James agreed, ignoring the tears streaming down his cheeks.  She was crying too, but he couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or pain or shock. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Promise me.” She said, voice firm again. Not like it was supposed to be, but still firm. “Promise you’ll be fine,  _please_.”

“I do.” James promised, and then he could suddenly hear Jane’s shaking breaths and Erik’s muffled sobs again and he began memorizing Darcy’s face, every curve, every contour, every drop of blood, every bruise, every shade of purple and pink and orange and blue.

“Good,” Darcy said, and he could feel her relaxing, sinking deeper into the burrow of his body. The fight was still going on around them, but their team was shielding them, taking their hits and making sure they had this moment. “ _You_  have to have a future.”

He wanted to scream that he didn’t want a future without her, but instead he nodded and bent down to kiss her cheeks and her forehead and her eyelids and lips and right underneath her ear, where she was always warmest and smelled most like herself.

He couldn’t say it because he couldn’t lie to her, he couldn’t make the last fucking words she heard be a  _lie_.

—

[If you love me let me go]

Darcy felt James lips connect with her skin, she felt Erik’s hands through her hair and down her shoulder, she felt Jane holding her hand and her body shaking in grief, but she felt okay.

She would never have the future she wanted with James, they’d never grow old together (if that was even possible) but he and his warmth surrounded her, and she had Jane and Erik; the people who’d taught her so much about so much more and she felt okay. Her friends didn’t hate her anymore either, and things could be so much worse.

Death was always inevitable, and it was always going to be a violent one for her, but this was more than she’d dare hope for.

She opened her eyes to James, watched him as she felt her heart rate slow even more and her breathing got faster and realized there was one more thing to say.

“I never did I tell you I love you, did I?” She said, watching as the saddest smile she’d ever seen formed on James’ lips.

“You didn’t have to,” He answered, “I knew anyway.”

“Good,” Darcy said, her breath even worse. “I just needed you to know.”

“I do. I do know and I love you too.” James said, leaning down to kiss her forehead again. He did it partly so he could hide his face from her, but she still felt his sticky tears against her skin. “So fucking much, you have to know that, right?”

“I do. I promise you I know.”

—

[This is the beat of my heart]

The last thing she heard was the sound of him screaming her name as the world around them exploded into white.

—

[If you love me let me go]

Thunder and lightning struck down around them, cocooning them in a haze of grey and white. The skies opened up to a pouring, heavy rain that made the blood of the fight run down the streets in tiny rivers of red.

It washed Darcy’s face, until all that was left was her bruises and the milk-white of her skin, the deep pink of her lips and her lashes sweeping down onto her cheekbones.

_Wake up! Please, just wake up!_

“ _Darcy, please!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and make no money. 
> 
> -
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr! Come say hi!](http://thejoysofamultishipper.tumblr.com/)


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